Ronald Weasley and the Greenish Temper
by xxxsalie
Summary: A kiss and a joke and a row... and what's next? SLASH RonxHarry--- Originally named 'Temper'
1. Chapter 1

**Ronald Weasley and the Greenish Temper**

Chapter.1

Ronald Weasley was pacing up and down in front of the study with his arms folded anxiously. The corridor was illuminated by only several flickering candlelights, but Ron did not intend on lighting more. Why bother if things won't brighten up? He leant in, putting his right ear against the door and listened if any sound was being made. There was utter silence.

Ron cleared his throat unncessarily as he spoke, "Harry, I told you I'm sorry! Will you come out now? You know I didn't mean what I said!" He banged his fist on the door for a few times before giving up hopelessly, and slipped onto the floor.  
He was frustrated, feeling like the biggest prat in the entire universe. How could he possibly have said that? It didn't even take wisdom to figure what was right to say. What was he thinking, blurting out nasty comments like that? Any lunatic ran over by a Hippogriff would've been more sober that him! He ran his fingers impatiently through his already messy red hair, thinking irritably about what he had said at dinner in front of ten or so friends. His stupid voice still echoed in his mind.

(Earlier that evening)

"Oh we're living together now, yeah, but it's only for the time-being. Harry's looking for a place downtown. I bet he'll be announcing anytime now he's got his perfect _**bird**_ and a love nest, if you know what I mean."

It was supposed to be a mindless joke, followed by several hearty chortles of himself and the guests like Dean, Seamus and Neville who would understand. But when Ron's eyes travelled across the table to where Harry sat, there was no post-prank blaming smile Harry used to wear when he was embarrased, nor the preaching look he sometimes gave Ron when he thought something was really silly. Instead, an icy-cold jet of green light shot from Harry's eyes through the warm air, aiming for Ron and to **kill**.

Rendered temporarily speechless, Ron came so near to have poured the wine outside of his goblet.

Later that night, Ron did not receive another glance from Harry, nor a single word mentioning him in Harry's conversations with others. Other people seemed unaware of the subtle change in the atmosphere but continued to laugh and eat. But when Ron served everyone Harry's favorite fruit pie and he didn't even touch it, Ron distinctively caught Hermione's concerned frown, and her mouthing "You'd better talk to him," in a dangerous fashion.

When they saw off the boys, kissed the girls good-night and made sure they Disapparated, Ron shut the door behind them. The quietness in the house made him slightly uncomfortable. He did not know where to start.

"So… I told Dean we'll go to the game next Friday. We have free time and they have real nice tickets. You're free that day, right?" Ron tried to sound as casual as possible. There was a pause, before Ron caught a distant response from the study he and Harry shared.

"What did you say, Harry? I didn't catch that." Ron hastened to the study, secretly thanking God that Harry wasn't going to start a cold war. He spoke to him… that seemed like a good thing, for the moment. He remembered how they used to have a silent war when they were teenagers.

Harry was reading one of his work papers as Ron entered the room. He flipped over the pages with his head bowed, as if concentrating on the already solved cases he dealt with last month.

"Nothing," murmured Harry, "just say anything you please to say. I'm free if you say I am."

Ron frowned, "Is this about what I said about you moving out? 'Cause if it is, I was just joking, mate---"

"Well don't joke about things like that!" snapped Harry, glaring at Ron so furiously that those green pupils might just burn. "You know I meant what I said the other night, and you just went around kidding. Do you actually want me out?"

"Harry, listen---"

"No! You keep your stupid apology to yourself. Just because we're best friends, it doesn't mean you can talk without your brain. In case you forgot, you were the one who kissed me that night!" Harry shook his head in disbelief, got to his feet and went around the desk to meet Ron. Gritting his teeth, Harry mocked an incredulous tone, "And why did I ever kiss back? Now get out."

Shoved violently out of the room, Ron found himself speechless at Harry's retaliation. When he finally came to himself, Ron used his reflects of a Keeper and tried to grab the door before it shut, but was no quicker than Harry. With a loud 'bang!' the door slammed and was locked by magic.

TBC.

* * *

This idea of RxH just came to me while I was studying.  
Nothing too serious about writing this one, so I guess Ron's not quite like Ron, and surely Harry's not quite like Harry.  
But that's the point of fanfiction, right? Hehe.  
Please read & review!


	2. Chapter 2

**Ronald Weasley and the Greenish Temper**

Chapter.2

Feeling like having dived into a Pensieve filled with his own memory, Ron sat on the floor, still thunderstruck. Those clear images flashed before his eyes as though somebody was poking him with a sharp weapon. It reminded him that Harry was undergoing the same pain, only ten times worse… perhaps even more.

Massaging both his temples with his right thumb and middle finger, Ron staggered to his feet. The fact that his little light-headedness had worsened into a migraine made him less remorseful. At least he was already being punished.

Having decided that he might as well leave Harry alone now, for there's no point arguing with someone who was determined to fight in silence ---It turned out that this had somehow become a cold war--- and maybe, just _maybe_, Harry would mercifully forgive him in the morning, like he always did.  
When it comes to that, Ron couldn't help but feel lucky to have such a good-natured friend. He kept his fingers crossed while praying hard in his mind--- please make this time like all the other times.

As he turned away from the study, Ron couldn't help but keep thinking about how angry Harry looked and how firmly he wanted to push him out of that room.  
He had never perceived so much rage in Harry's bright green eyes. Those emerald pupils always presented their owner as brave, clever and lenient, maybe daring sometimes, but never violent or temperamental. That, in fact, had scared the hell out of Ron, but he didn't dare express anything nor did he have time to have done so.

Ron went into the kitchen where the plates still lay unwashed. He waved his wand casually at the wireless, and frowned bitterly as Celestina Warbeck's voice came pouring out, filling the kitchen with a particularly cheerful number. Trained to find a bit of fun in Celestina's songs since about five, Ron rolled up his sleeves, not daring to let out any sigh of tiredness (somehow he believed Harry could hear him), and started cleaning the table.

"_You come on a broom, landing on top of my roof._

_Oh despite the snow, you open my window._

_Tender, tender, touchching my cheeks;_

_Don't hesitate to kiss, for the chance will be gone if you miss."_

"What a terrible song…" sniggered Ron, as he put away the clean dishes.  
Securing a chance to kiss sounded like a behavior of a git. The time to kiss was supposed to be spontaneous and mutually agreed rather than some tight train timetable. How could anyone miss the chance to kiss? You kiss, when you feel like it. If the feel comes, you kiss! There's definitely something philosophical in it, thought Ron seriously. As he contemplated the lyrics of Celestina Warbeck's song, a fragment of thought came floating into his half occupied mind.

"**You were the one who kissed me that night!"**

"_Oh kiss, just kiss my faithful lips!"_ sang Celestina, and broke into chorus with a group of passionate backup singers. Ron bounded up a few inches with shock at this sudden roar of choir, and waved his wand quickly to shut the fervent voices. "Don't reckon I'll need you anymore, thank you very much," mumbled Ron to innocent wireless.

With the room much quieter, he now gravely pondered on something he had consciously avoided thinking. He could almost feel his brain rejecting the very thought. Consequently, some minutes prior to now he had managed to subdue the guilt. However, he also knew that the effort would be in vain. Why did that bloody song must contain that effin' line!

Ron closed his eyes and let the relentless memory take over his mind once more like so many times over the fortnight.  
He felt his chest burn, his heart racing fast, and eyes dreamy. But he knew it was deceiving him, even the hotness sprawled all over his body.  
He could not have felt this way, and that was so, so indecent.

There was one thing he was sure of...he was lying to himself all the same.

Harry was, after all, provoked because he mentioned him moving out.  
That alone could have sounded jesting, had he not made some very true and sincere promises to Harry.  
That alone would even have become a convincing prophecy had Ron not tugged Harry's shirt that evening, and pulled him into a kiss.

That was a kiss he had never experienced in his entire life.

Ron felt his lips, and started recalling once more.

TBC.

* * *

Ha, second part!  
Sorry it's not a very meaningful chapter, but it's used as a 'bridge'...if you want to keep reading.  
I'm challenging my imagination!  
Please R&R!


	3. Chapter 3

**N/A: Sorry it's been song long since I last posted. I got a college entrance exam to prepare, and it will take place in 9 days! But meanwhile I managed to write some more.  
This chapter's more about internal feelings. Hope you all like it :D**

**Ronald Weasley and the Greenish Temper**

Chapter.3

...

(a fortnight earlier)

It was already a quarter past nine, when Ron finished off his last file of paperwork, thanks to an old bloke who claimed he almost had an Unforgivable Curse used on him by a hooded figure whilst at sleep. However, that had merely been his wife's routine prank and she couldn't believe he hadn't gotten used to it after all these years. Ron sighed, and shoved the pile away from his working table. He gathered his things into his brief case, made his way to Harry's office routinely to check if he had forgotten anything. He got to the door when a sudden thought came to him that Harry didn't come to work today. Before going to bed last night, Ron surely heard Harry say something about not coming in tomorrow, important stuff…but like today, he was too tired to pay attention to what exactly Harry was saying. By the time he got dressed and came down into the kitchen, Harry had gone. He left a note, however, saying Ron needn't wait up—he might be late for dinner.

What Harry didn't foresee was that Ron couldn't come home for dinner, either. Anyhow, Ron managed to grab a bite at the Leaky Cauldron before Apparating home. He arrived at ten sharp at the doorstep, finding the lights lit inside. Harry must have come home before him, but where did he go, anyway? Not on business, he was sure. Aurors with foreign business were all openly dispatched in their routine meeting. Something personal, he supposed. But he momentarily could not think of anything that he and Hermione weren't involved if it was truly significant. It was something to do with a girl, perhaps?

He bewitched the door open. And as he stepped into the house, a refreshing smell from the stand across the hallway suddenly awoke him from tiredness and thoughts. A vase of blossoming lilies stood there, welcoming him tenderly.

"Ron?" Harry called, and he walked towards Ron, "Where have you been? I was really worried!"

"Nothing, just caught up by work," Ron muttered as he took off his cloak, "and that should be my line! Where have YOU been?"

"It's nothing." Harry turned away, shunning Ron's question.

"Oh okay," Ron said simply, "and you may as well hope that I'll pretend not to notice the lilies, either. Come on, Harry!" He rolled his eyes at him, "Nobody's that stupid."

The floral aroma softened Ron's senses, and he stood there, sort of demanding, but actually just gazing into Harry's now inpenetrable green eyes. The owner of them seemed to sense the firm determination of Ron's, so his mouth opened, ready to speak.

"Actually, I went to Hogwarts today, for Severus Snape's death anniversary."

***

Ron was sitting at the kitchen table when Harry offered him a cup of tea. Rain was pouring outside, and Ron wondered if it was ever going to stop. As Harry poured himself some tea and sat beside him, Ron couldn't help staring at the friend he thought he knew in mingled anxiety and exasperation.

"Why didn't you tell me?" hissed Ron, for perhaps the fifth time in five minutes. "I could have gone with you."

Harry sipped his tea in silence. He didn't want to answer Ron's question, not even with an indifferent shrug. Ron frowned at Harry, suddenly infuriated by this elusive silence.

"You thought I didn't care, didn't you?" said Ron, in the calmest tone he could manage. "Or did you think I would jeer at you?"

He couldn't bear the sight of Harry so cold and respondless when he was desperate to know why. Why was such an important thing kept from him, one of Harry's major helpers during the battle? Even if the man of the issue used to be the public enemy of his youth, made all of their schoollives miserable, slashed off George's ear and killed Dumbledore, he turned out to be of good motives. After Ron knew what had kept Snape so motivated even in the darkest times, Ron paid his most sincere homage to this man. But Harry did not believe him!

He listened to the rain, still frowning. If he had ever learnt anything from blunt demanding Harry like this one, it was that Harry would never say a thing before he decided to.

"I suppose McGonagall went, too," Ron said, hoping that this wasn't an unanswerable question. "Anybody else?"

"Some people from the Order, and his old Slytherin students." Harry said, with his head bowed.

"Oh," Ron replied simply.

"I saw lilies. Yeah, that's very, uh, thoughtful," said Ron as he glanced behind his back to see the vase standing before the door.

Harry smiled slightly, and bowed his head once more. He stared into the hazel colored liquid, seemingly lost in thought.

Ron, still contemplating the situation, finished his tea slowly and stood up. He recalled that after the battled had ended, they discussed the Deathly Hallows, Albus Dumbledore, Voldemort and so many other people, but never Snape. He and Hermione just thought that Harry didn't want to talk about this strange romance took place between his mother and Snape, the teacher he hated nearly all his times in Hogwarts. It was after all extremely weird. Would that be the reason why Harry didn't want Ron to know that he cared for the man? He was ashamed of what he had done? Was Harry feeling guilty for not seeing things rationally and hating someone who had always tried to protect him?

If those were the reason… who was to blame? As a matter of fact, the reasons were all quite personal. Could he blame Harry for not asking for his company?

Ron's face softened.

"I think I'll be off to bed now. I'm practically worn out," Ron yawned, "Sorry for letting you wait up."

Harry gave a slight nod but did not stand up.

Ron approached Harry, and placed a hand on his back, "I don't blame you for not asking me to go," he whispered, "It matters to you more."

***

Rain had stopped, and Ron was in his bed, staring at the ceiling. He could not fall asleep. He shut his eyes tight and convinced himself that he was very very tired. Tossing and turning, there seemed to be an invisible force prompting his eyelids open. This was insane.

Why did he still care this much?

Though Ron wasn't actually there, he could see Harry standing in front of Snape's grave, entirely alone. But he wasn't alone! McGonagall and many people were there! He could not see Harry's face, though, because he kept his head bowed, like tonight when he tried to talk to him.

Moonlight illuminated the room, but it was still dim. It must be after midnight now. Ron stayed wide awake, and this fact was deeply troubling him. Maybe he shouldn't have drunk tea before going to bed. Yeah, that was stupid. But he was upset… maybe he should've had some mead… Anyhow, he really felt a desire for sleep now! He wanted to sleep!

A light knock tore away Ron's stare at the owl perching outside. Failed at self-hypnotizing, but Ron didn't want to get up. He did not know why. Something was holding him back while his brain commanded fiercely to answer the door. He did not listen to his brain.

"Ron, are you still awake?"

Ron stayed silent. Harry wanted to ask him about work, he supposed. Not that it's something this urgent, Harry! It's time for you to sleep!

"It's okay. Even if you're asleep, please hear me out."

He then heard a soft scrubbing sound as if someone had slid down against his bedroom door. And then there was silence. So dull was the silence that Ron almost thought Harry had fallen asleep. Just then, Ron heard something.

"I didn't actually go today. Cowardly I was, really. I was determined to go. I remember this day, I assure you. But when I arrived at the Hogsmeade, I just sort of… chickened out." Harry said, and then chuckled slightly. "I acted like a coward."

Ron was standing in front of his door when he noticed this. He crouched down and sat with his back against it, too. A funny fumbling noise could be heard as well when Harry carried on talking.

"The reason why I didn't ask any of you to go was because I knew I would back out like this, and that was shameful. In a way, which even you and Hermione couldn't understand, I cannot face Severus Snape."

Ron listened, oddly patient, like someone who had never listened to another person speak. What was Harry talking about? And he knowingly wanted to share this with Ron? And there was more silence.

Strange noises sounded again, as if someone was playing with his shirt, making it wrinkle.

"How could I face him if I never possess the strongest faith and love for someone? He loved my mother nearly all his life, but all I ever did was hate him." Harry sounded hoarse. He sniffed, letting out deep breaths.

"How am I ever going to become what Dumbledore said about me? He said that my feelings were the most powerful weapon that helped fight off Voldemort, and that my mother's love was the strongest shield I ever had--- But you know what? Had I put down a little bit of my prejudice, things might have become different…" He broke off, now positively buried his face in his hands because all Ron could hear now was deep, miserable sobbing.

Remorse, was it? Something Harry advised Voldemort to do?

Ron felt his heart racing, his chest rising and falling so rapidly that he almost couldn't bear it. He touched his cheek, and there was something wet on it.

He reached for his wand and pointed it at the door. Muttering the spell, the door opened with no sound and an invisible wall built behind Harry's back to prevent him from collapsing.

Ron gazed upon Harry, who indeed was weeping uncontrollably into his knees. He conjured a handkerchief out of thin air, and handed to Harry from behind his ears. Ron didn't quite know how to do. Last time he saw somebody cried was Hermione, and he did the exactly same thing.

Harry gave a very sudden jerk of the head and lept to his feet. Face still damp with tears he couldn't say anything but kept wiping his face with his cuffs. The handkerchief was clutched tight in his hand.

"I'm, uh, sorry… I must have awakened you." Harry said, most awkwardly. "I'm just, um, slicing onion… with my wand, that's all."

"It's alright, Harry." Ron said, "I actually heard everything you said." He looked at Harry's blood-shot eyes, and smiled very gently. "I'm glad you told me the truth. And for the first time I will not say 'You should've done so'."

Harry looked at Ron motionlessly. Seconds later, he smiled, too.

***

"You came out to see me cry, didn't you?" asked Harry, sitting beside Ron on the floor against the wall between the two bedroom doors.

"Yeah, part of it." Ron grinned, turning to see Harry's blushed face. "Oh no, Harry, of course not. Come on, would I?"

"Yes, you would," said Harry calmly, but gave him a swift toothy grin.

Ron threw him a incredulous look.

"There was something you said that I could not agree with, so I had to come outside to disagree with you." Ron said this before he could even stop himself.

"…oh?" Harry drew away his gaze, now becoming extremely interested in his own trouser's wrinkles.

Ron bit his bottom lip, and turned the other side to look outside the window. It's now or never, he thought. Ron cleared his throat in a serious way, and forced himself to look at Harry…even if Harry had already plucked up the courage to look back at him.

"Harry, you are more than you think."

"What?"

"All these years, I can't believe you still think you're a man of no feelings. Like Dumbledore said, with what did you defeat Voldemort? What moved you on when all the people turned their backs at you?"

Ron felt rush after rush of emotions urging him on.

"When I look into your eyes, there's definitely something more than revenge. You're kind-hearted, good-natured, amiable, and courageous. You show love towards people around you. Guess what? It was your appropriate hatred for Dark Arts that helped save the day! And you knew Snape disliked you because you're your father's son, and there was nothing you could do about it! Besides, you didn't even know that until he was killed. In your best mate's opinion, you both possessed what was important and amazing, and that was equally valued."

Ron let out a sigh, and looked deeply into those emerald eyes. When was the last time he observed those superbly sparkling green pupils? They were so… beautiful.

"What I'm sure of is…" he paused, suddenly ran out of words to catch up. Harry was looking at him with fervent gleam of hope across his face, and that made him look absolutely…um… charming.

Lost in words, lost in thoughts, lost in everything that represented the world of ration, he felt his face burning and all things went into a blur before his eyes… only perhaps… Harry's penetrable pale skin and those eyes, those half open lips…

Ron dived in before he could even think.

Tugging Harry's shirt and pulling him closer, Ron's lips met Harry's in a silent clash. He had no idea what led to this, but he felt sudden warmth surging in from the very top to the very bottom of his body. This drove his tiredness, sympathy, his pain seeing Harry so painful away from the world. Now he almost believed he could chirp with glee.

What felt like a century went past as this light kiss broke apart.

"Sorry."

Ron covered his mouth stupidly, and stared at the floor. Harry looked stunned, but he shook his head slightly.

"All I want to say is, you are a warm person to be with. And, you will never be out of feelings," Ron shifted with embarrassed unease, "You have me." Then, he did not speak again.

They sat there in silence, guessing each other's thoughts… Was the other person drinking in this pregnant atmosphere or rendered permanently speechless? They would never know.

"…Thanks, Ron. I didn't know you could be so… wise." Harry raised his head and looked at him for the first time after the kiss. He stood up, paced to his bedroom, and stopped. He whirled around, and said, "I really appreciate it. I do."

Ron puckered a forced smile. Somehow he was hoping for more.

He was shaking with excitement, craving for some extraordinary things to happen. He wanted something to happen. He didn't want to just let this night die. It was so amazing, special… too wonderful to just pass by. Was it the kiss or the sensational talk that rocked his world? Never mind that! Let something happen, anything, please! Ron closed his eyes, but it was too late. He heard the door closed softly with a light thud.

"Honestly, what was I thinking? Harry's a bloke! He's my mate! He had been involved with Ginny, Ron Weasley you prat! On the other hand, he didn't say anything about that kiss… yeah, that was weird. Did he enjoy it as much as I did? Oh shut up you!"

He was seriously blaming himself for the blunt action when he sensed a shadow cast over him. Harry was looking down at him now, in his pajamas. Perhaps Ron was deep in thoughts so he didn't hear Harry.

"Before I go to bed," Harry crouched down so that he could talk to Ron face to face, "I want to demonstrate something you convinced me that I have."

Ron simply couldn't remember anything else that night. Harry's face closing in… those lips slightly open… gentle touches covered his own lips… and then he was responding to him with the greatest joy he ever owned.

TBC


End file.
